I study his face. He still looks hesitant, like he’s not sure he actually wants to give me the ring.
“What is it?” I whisper.
“What?”
“There’s something holding you back from giving that to me.” I curl up against his side. “I really want it,” I tell him. “So please get over it fast.”
He laughs, but the sound is hollow. “I just—” The words die in his mouth. A few agonising seconds pass, as he visibly struggles to find the words.
“Was it the flashback?” I guess. “Was it really bad?”
His shoulders slump. “Worst one I’ve had in a while. I honestly couldn’t tell what was happening.”
I put my chin in the crook of his neck, my heart hurting.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Matt’s PTSD, it’s that the flashbacks don’t end as soon as he gets out of them. The effects linger. Even though he tries to hide it, every single one scares the absolute shit out of him. He’s usually a bit weird and snappy and shaky the whole rest of the day. I’ve found that cuddles work wonders to make him feel better, though, so I climb into his lap, plopping myself down between his knees. “I’m sorry.”
He grunts, his strong arms banding around my waist. “I don’t know why,” he mumbles into my hair. “It came out of nowhere.”
“Is that what’s upsetting you?” I run my fingers across his tanned forearms, scratching his skin lightly with my nails.
“I’ve spent all this bloody time trying to work through my shit. I thought I was ready.” He looks down at the ring in his hand.
“Ready for what?”
“Foryou. I don’t want you to tie yourself to a man who wakes you up screaming every other night.” A frustrated grumble shakes his chest. “How the Hell can I ask you to devote the rest of your life to me—to start a family with me, to one day havekidswith me—when I can’t even control my own damn brain?” He takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “I can’t ask that of you. It’s completely unfair.”
“Are you done?” I ask. He cuts me a glare. I sigh. “Matt, I don’t want to demean your emotions, or anything. But the soldier denying himself relationships because of his PTSD is, like,sooverdone.”
He snorts. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Like, if I saw it in a script, I’d toss the whole thing into the trash. It’s a cliché. And not even a good one. It always annoys the audience.”
“Why?”
“‘Cause it’s dumb. Dummy.” I twist in his lap so we’re face to face. “Me loving you is not dependent on you ‘getting better’. It never was. I didn’t want you to go to therapy forme, dipshit. I wanted it foryou.”I lift my hand, running my fingers over his stubbly cheek. “Because I want you to be happy. You deserve happiness. You deserve love. And,” I press my lips to his neck, feeling his pulse thrum under his skin, “you deserve a really hot, talented, smart wife. So gimme the ring, please.”
He takes a deep breath, letting it gust out of him. “You’re sure you want me?”
“Jesus, Matt. Yes. Forever.”
The last syllable hasn’t even left my lips before he pulls me into a kiss. I sigh, melting under him as he holds me close, his hot tongue swirling against mine.
I hear footsteps crunching through the sand towards us, and look up to see Glen and Kenta. Glen scowls when he sees the ring box in Matt’s hand.
“I knew it. I bloodyknewit,” he mutters, throwing himself down onto one knee next to us and fumbling for a ring box in his own pocket. Without ceremony, he flips it open, showing me a silver ring with a pink heart-shaped stone set in the centre. I press a hand to my chest as my own heart flutters.
“Glen…”
“Figured it would go with all of your outfits,” he mumbles, his entire face flushing red.
I laugh. He’s right. Pink and sparkly. It matches my style to a tee.
I reach out and touch the stone lightly with the pad of my finger. “It’s beautiful.” I glance up to meet his eyes. “You’re beautiful.”
He blinks hard, reaching up to trace the thin scar on my cheek. It’s barely noticeable—I had a couple of surgeries to fix it, and now it’s just a faint white line down the side of my face, easily hidden by makeup when I’m on set. He leans forward and kisses it very gently. “Not as beautiful as you, lass.”
I know he’s not talking about the way I look. I lean forward, still in Matt’s lap, and touch my mouth to his. His lips part, and I inhale his soft, pleased sigh.
